Reichenbach Revised
by astudyinredbeard
Summary: Reichenbach Fall. Sherlock Holmes jumps from St. Barts roof to save John Watson. But what happens next is an eventuality that even the Holmes brothers could not prepare for. Based post-Reichenbach. (Warnings for character death, but you know how the story goes - or do you? ;) )
1. Reichenbach

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?"  
"Leave a note when?"  
"Goodbye John"  
"No. Don't"

"SHERLOCK!"  
~~~~~~~~~~

I was laying limp on the floor, trying to remain still. I had just fallen nine stories from the hospital rooftop and I was still alive. Quite impressive I thought… not many people could say that without having "sky-diving" or the like on their CV. It was all going to plan… John had just got hit by the bike and was recovering from hitting his head. In a moment he would get up and run to me. My people would keep him back but allow him to take my non-existent pulse… and it would be done. I would have fooled him - for a price… my life for his. I hated it - my only friend would believe I was six feet under.

This was it. He was getting up and is about to run while I am forced to stare at him with empty eyes - I couldn't bare it to so I looked the other way. It was all for him… so that I could save his life. So he could live his life.

He was metres from where I lay when a shot rings out across the street. I remained still, trying to place the shot. I heard a scream from someone far away and the paramedics around me suddenly stepped away and stood looking at something. I tried my best to see what had happened – and immediately regretted it. John was on the floor but he hadn't been hit by some other bike… I knew that wouldn't happen. Then the terrible thought flooded my mind…

I ignored the situation I was in, ignored the fake blood that streamed across my face. I got up and ran to him, no one tried to stop me, I started to panic more as a red pool started to collect on the concrete that he was lying lifelessly on I was shouting his name, kneeling by his side… unable to fully register the blood that stained his hair. I was surrounded by people who knew and worked for me, no doubt my brother was watching. And yet I sobbed by his side.

I tried to save John Watson… I failed him instead.


	2. The Game is Over

**Chapter Two – The Game is Over**

"I am sorry, I really am Sherlock… But there was nothing we co-"  
"Oh Mycroft just leave it… I don't need a sympathy speech… especially from you" I glared at my brother's futile attempt at comforting.  
"Sherlock! I fully understand that you refuse to believe me but you must know that this was one eventuality that I thought had been dealt with!"  
"Check the morgue Mycroft because he is in there because _you_ made a mistake!"  
"_We_ made a mistake Sherlock… I followed everything within the specifications _we_ had organised. The sniper on John had been taken into custody! But no one could have known that there would be a second man!"  
I looked away from him as I felt tears sting my eyes. "Mycroft you _really_ are crap at trying to comfort people…"  
I heard Mycroft sigh and walk towards me. "I'm not a comforting person brother dear… apparently I am a cold and emotionless shell…"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the words he had echoed from me after I had lost my Redbeard when I was a boy. "Very true… but at least you attempt it I guess…" I looked up at him with teary eyes. "I failed him Myc… and if that wasn't bad enough… He…" I could barely choke out the rest of the sentence and Mycroft awkwardly pulled me close to him, it was strange to be so close to him after so many years of hatred between us. I wouldn't have been old enough to remember the last time we had ever been physically close…

"You did all you could Sherlock…" I could tell he was uncomfortable at the embrace so I pulled away with tears streaming down my cheeks.  
"Myc you don't understand! The last moments he had… he thought I had died… What have I done?!"  
"Sherlock! Calm down… he would have thought that anyway for a year at least! Besides, you saved Mrs. Hudson, and Inspector Lestrade… I'd call that a victory…"  
He really was crap at comforting… but he had a point. I nodded and cleared my throat. "Mycroft, I want to continue the plan… I don't want this all to be for nothing, even if it did fail…" I stood up and briskly walked to his desk to find the files I needed.  
"Are you sure? Moriarty may be dead and unaware that you are not but his network knows – It is too risky!"  
"No, they would think that I had been defeated and would stay in London… The last thing they think I would do is to continue." Mycroft seemed unconvinced, but nevertheless he walked to my side at the desk.  
He sighed and scanned the various papers spread across the surface in front of us. "Where do we start?"  
"The Italian side seems simple enough… Their strongest connections they had with him seem to be providing his suits…" I swore I saw Mycroft smile for a moment.  
"Agreed… we can get you to Switzerland…" He stared down at the map before pointing at the south of the country. "Lugarno… I have agents there who can keep you under wraps, and then you can simply walk to the Italian border. Better than arriving by plane with the amount of security that is undoubtedly compromised by his network…"  
"Agreed." I looked at my brother for a moment as he sifted through a file, for the next year he would once again be all I had – but this time I would definitely need him.

I will stop Moriarty's web. John Watson wouldn't die for nothing.


	3. The Spider's Web

**Chapter Three – The Spider's Web**

_10 Months Later_

I raced through the basement of derelict building in southern Ukraine – Well, at least the government thought it was unoccupied. I dodged a low steam pipe and turned left past a door marked "boiler room" in Russian symbols as I heard shouts cloud the rooms I had left behind a mere five minutes ago.

Nine months I had been without contact that didn't involve an agent with a foreign name and a coded message that showed allegiance to the British Military Intelligence. Just a short way to go and I would make it to the room I needed to get to. In there would be the Ukrainian operative that Moriarty had at some point conspired with before his suicide on the roof of Bart's Hospital. I had turned another corner and heard the foreign yells get closer. As I approached the end of the corridor a guard stepped out in front. I panicked for a second before realising that he was unarmed… strange for him to be separated from the others and unequipped to fight, especially as everyone would be unaware if I had a weapon or not. I was about to knock him out of the way, knowing it was no use to wait here with my own firing squad around the corner.

"Sherlock Holmes?!" He was British – but why would a British agent meet me here, now? I had four floors to climb before I could take down this string of the Spider's web.  
"W-who are you?!" I respond between pants.  
"I'm with Mycroft; we need to leave here now, it isn't safe"  
"No kidding! But I have to be upstairs not out of the building – that's the plan!"  
"Plan's changed Mr Holmes. You must come with me."

I heard the voices getting even closer; I didn't have any time to negotiate a plan: if Mycroft wanted me out at such a crucial point then it must have some reason behind it. I nodded and followed him as he disappeared through a doorway off the corridor. We leapt down two small flights of stairs and arrived at a small tunnel that we ducked into – I ignored the foul stench of stale water and something that seemed like rotting meat, not particularly wanting to investigate the source . I followed the tunnel's path until we were outside the building and at the edge of the surrounding forest. I was blinded for a moment by the headlights of two 4x4 vehicles and heard shouts coming from inside them.

"Mr Holmes! Get in! Now!"  
I didn't hesitate and jumped into the back seat of the car which started to speed off the moment I had got a foot inside. I was tossed in all directions and held onto the car door to try and stable myself, to no avail. I heard shots fire in the distance but couldn't know if the bullets had struck anything nearby due to the roar of the engines.

We reached a clearing and a road around ten minutes later; the gunfire had ceased eight minutes earlier. I saw the entire building looming in the distance, I could only identify it by a light on what seemed to be the fourth floor.

I swore under my breath. "Why did you pull me out?! I was so close!"  
"We had intel that it was a trap; third floor had an army waiting for you – and the operative was never there in the first place." The passenger shouted back to me. The man who had led me away from my mission had gotten into the other car.  
"You should rest Mr Holmes, we have quite a long journey before we reach the embassy."

I sighed and looked out at the black abyss outside my window. "I'm good, thanks." I still had adrenalin pumping in my veins and the thought of failure flooding my brain; I wouldn't be able to sleep! However, I proved myself wrong as I drifted less than an hour later.

Moriarty's web was still standing while John Watson did not. I had failed.


	4. City of Light

**Chapter Four – City of Light**

I woke up in a strange room that I figured must have been some kind of hotel in yet another foreign country. I pulled myself up with difficulty as my entire body was sore and aching. I made my way into the bathroom and looked at my reflection – I had not seen myself change over the months; there is hardly time to waste on appearances when you have an organisation to stop. My hair was long and raggedy, streaming past my jaw. My cheek was lined with thin healing scratches I had gotten in Hungary; my shoulder bared a scar from Poland; my hands were darkened by mud and gunpowder. Ten months had passed and I could barely recognise my own reflection. I started to run a bath for myself, turning my gaze away from the mirror. I sunk myself into the bathtub with a painful sigh.

A while later, I had dried and dressed myself in a suit I found in the wardrobe. The room was simple yet elegant… a theme of red and white, with dark oak furnishings. A desk opposite the bed had a room service leaflet – all in French. I opened my curtains and let the moonlight flood in. From what I could tell it must have been around eight in the evening; it was December 18th when I had left for Ukraine… allowing travel and the amount of time I was held for in the building before my escape, plus the high probability that I had been asleep for a day it would mean that today was the winter solstice.

Paris… that was where I was… The City of Lights – it looked so beautiful from my window. It was the best thing I'd seen after months of tangled forests and greyscale buildings.

"Quite remarkable, don't you think brother dear?" I hadn't noticed him entering my room and flinched slightly at his voice, however my gaze upon the city did not shift.  
"What happened in Ukraine Mycroft? Why am I here and not on my way to the Balkans, hm?"  
"My agents should have alerted you… but I suppose you were a tad preoccupied at the time..." He walked to my side and looked upon the moonlit city.  
I had to think for a moment to what they had said. "Um… Oh of course, you had a mole tell you that it was a net for me to fall into… But a simple message to warn me would have done just fine…"  
He frowned at me. "No Sherlock, it was not a mole… a source with links to Moriarty himself…"  
I stared at him with disbelief. "This wasn't your actions? You took a hint from someone who most likely planted the information?! Mycroft I thought you would be able to notice such an obvious trick!"  
"The information was reliable; there was evidence. Also when we searched the building it was clear that what they had said was true. Besides, you had already taken care of the larger areas of The Web, it would be impossible to rebuild with the lack of a leader and connections." He responded calmly. Snob git thought he was in the right.  
"Mycroft that can't be enough to change your mind-"  
"But it was." He turned to me with a look in his eye that I could not recognise in him. "Sherlock, you must understand that despite what you may think, I would not want to end up attending your funeral - especially if I knew I was the one who put you there."  
"Don't attend then." I turned away from him, getting the TV remote and sitting back in the bed.  
He sighed and closed the curtains. "What would be point in faking your death at all if you went and got yourself killed? How would that be of any benefit?"  
I chuckled "I would be remembered… apparently." I was grinning at him. I loved sarcasm with my brother because he was just rubbish at comebacks… "Joan of Arc, Darth Vader… Jesus' death is remembered by a national weekend of chocolate bingeing. Doesn't seem all that bad if I'm honest…"

There was a pause before he responded. "I don't recall John having his own holiday… do you?"

He was standing in front of the television now but I hadn't noticed him move since the mention of him. "Thought not... You do remember that you decided to carry on, despite the increase in probability that you would be killed, because of John. The man who was, quite literally, caught in the crossfire..." The corner of his mouth twitched at the look on my face. Ten months I had not heard that name from another man's mouth and he was mocking his death.

"You think this is a joke?!"  
"Of course not! It is a reality check because of this stupid behaviour Sherlock! You could have been killed and I got you out!"  
"You got me out? I never wanted to leave, I was so close! And you decided to listen to a man who was most likely lying?! Do you even know him?!"  
"It was an anonymous tip. I had it checked. Leaving you to face that would be murder!"  
"Oh really? Because I faced a lot more in the past ten months and yet you pull me out now!"  
"I am aware Sherlock but it was too much for you to handle!"  
Mycroft was yelling louder than I ever heard him before – and I wasn't exactly calm either.  
"So let me get this straight…" I got up and walked towards him. "You doubt my ability to do this and make me fail?! Try again Mycroft because that is one crap excuse!"  
"It is the truth! Do you really think that John's death would make this any easier?!"  
"Of course not!"  
"Then you understand that this was likely to happen!"  
"I do. But I didn't get the chance to fail on my terms because of you!"  
"Your failure would be your death and that is one thing I could not live with Sherlock because I actually care!"  
I was taken aback by his words but fury still pulsed through my veins. "And when exactly did you start caring brother? Hm? When did the whole 'caring is a disadvantage' thing go out of the window?!"  
"I have always cared Sherlock! I taught you that so you wouldn't get involved in it! And yet you have ignored me and look where it's gotten you! Practically writing your own death certificate all because of one man! I told you - don't get involved."

"Well you know what? Why don't you take your own advice Mycroft because I certainly do not care about you." He looked hurt at my words, but I was blinded by rage by that point.

Yet within moments it seemed as if all anger; all emotion; had drained from his face leaving an empty look in his eye and a plain facial expression. His stance straightened and his grip on the cane of his umbrella had loosened.  
"As you wish. Plane leaves at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Don't be late." He turned at once and left the room. I had no words to say.

I did not care for my brother, I cared for my friend: John Watson


	5. Passing Time

**Chapter 5 – Passing Time**

**~~~ Six Months Later ~~~**

The cell door opened loudly, letting in a stream of light that hurt my tired eyes. A figure walked into the room that I failed to recognise due to the blinding light behind him.  
"Come on Sherlock. Get up." The memories of the previous night came flooding back although there were frequent gaps - However I now know who it is…  
"Ah, Lestrade. Am I allowed to go now?" I said with a grin.  
"Don't give me that. Get up."

I sighed with frustration as I pulled myself off the bench and towards the door. "Could I borrow a phone for the taxi? I think I lost mine yesterday…" We walked down to the reception and I collect my belongings; shoes and my watch… I must have left my coat at home…  
"You're not going home Sherlock."  
I looked up at the DI with confusion. "What do you mean I'm not going home? Of course I'm going home, where else would I go?"  
He averted his eyes away from me and answered after a sigh. "Your brother called me, he has everything organised and there's a car outside."  
I shook my head in disbelief; I knew where this was going and I didn't like it – not one bit.  
"No… you didn't… how could you? Why are you doing this? It has nothing to do with you!"  
"It's breaking the law Sherlock it has everything to do with me!"  
"No it isn't, I was experimenting!"  
"That was the excuse last time, and the time before that and the time be-"  
"Because it's the truth!"  
"No Sherlock, its drugs. This is the sixth time this month that you've been either caught in possession or taken to hospital! You need help Sherlock, whether you want it or not. Now go outside and get in that car, and don't try anything funny because you won't get far."

I glared at him and turned away, walking out of the building. Sure enough the car was there to take me away – a couple guards stood either side so I couldn't run if I tried. My brother organised this for me, despite the fact we have barely spoken in six months. I hated him even more.

**~~~ Three Weeks Later ~~~**

I sat across from the woman with the clipboard. She was my 'therapist' with a tiny IQ which made our meetings extra frustrating. What made things even worse was that I didn't want a therapist or a "cosy room all to myself that I could sit and read my books in". No. I wanted out of this boring white walled building and back home.

"So, will you talk to me now Mr Holmes?"  
There she goes again. Why does everyone insist on talking to me about 'my feelings'?  
"Mr Holmes, you're ignoring me"  
"I'm glad you've finally caught on" I muttered.  
"You will need to talk at some point"  
"You will need to understand that I won't"

This had been the foundations of our meetings for the last three weeks. I refuse to talk to someone about something so minor. Yes I understand that some people think it's stupid… but then again they've never tried it. It helps to slow things down. It helps to relax my busy mind. It is a distraction from the lack of anything interesting. I wouldn't tell them that because I know they will want to offer other ways to occupy my time. But they don't understand. They think they are asking all the right questions but I won't crack.

"Mr Holmes. Tell me about John."

There she goes again with the stupid quest- Wait what? I looked up at her trying to suppress any emotion from my facial expression. I must have misheard her.

"John Watson? He was your flatmate and colleague for two years."

I hadn't misheard. Why would she ask about him? "Yes I remember him. He died over a year ago. How is he relevant?"

"It seems..." She said looking through what was presumably my file. "Well it seems that the last time you were put into rehabilitation was not long before you met him. In fact it was nearly two months after you were discharged that he became your flatmate…"

"That still doesn't explain why he is relevant."

She looked at me for a moment, clearly feeling a bit frustrated due to my tone and my lack of cooperation since our first session. But I wasn't here to make friends.

"Well if anyone was to look at this they would think that this relapse has been because… of him…"

I was getting angry now. How dare she bring him up and then suggest… that! This was the man I had failed to save. I had tried to move on and found myself bored and in need of a hobby – no matter how… recreational. I had moved on from John Watson. I had no reason to cling onto his name or his memory. He is symbol of my failure and so I keep him in my head only as a reminder of how I failed. Any other interpretations were simply ludicrous.

"You think I have started taking drugs because of a man who died over a year ago?"

"I think he was a contributing factor, yes"

"No. He's dead. People die. It happens. It's part of my job for god's sake…"

"Someone close dying isn't an everyday thing Mr Holmes. His death could-"

"Look people die. That's what people do!" I shuddered slightly at the words that had echoed from my first meeting with the Spider and drew in a deep breath. "He is nothing to do with any of this. Like I said before; I was bored."

She nodded and wrote brief notes onto her clipboard before looking up to me again. "So… Mr Holmes, how would you normally occupy your time so you aren't… bored?"

I thought for a moment and let my lips curl into a smile. "A case."

**~~~Three months later~~~**

I smiled proudly at Lestrade as the car drove off, taking the Kensington Killer with it. It was a simple conclusion to come to – even Anderson would be able to- No that's taking it too far...

"Good work Sherlock… But how did you know?" Lestrade was leaning against his own car, phone in his hand and the look of astonishment which had not quite faded from his expression.

"Her shoes – They were caked in mud, yet there was a layer of dried mud behind it. The consistency of the mud didn't quite match any you'd find in London so she must have been in the countryside and driven back here post mortem. Once I had that it was easier enough to realise the connection to the house – who would go to all of that effort if the house wasn't a part of it?"

"Brilliant! That's ju-…" He looked down as his phone pinged and grinned at the screen.

I frowned at him trying to figure out what had him distracted. "Your wife?"

He looked up after tapping out a response to the text. "Hm? Oh no… my fianceé… I divorced Helen a while ago…"

I smiled at the man. "Congratulations, to you and miss..?"

"Kalia. She's been working with me since you…" He cleared his throat, obviously realising that he had struck a 'sensitive' topic. I wasn't bothered by it though. I nodded in response.

"Yes… well congratulations…" A thought hit my mind. "Although you know that she…"

"No Sherlock, that's enough deductions for today!" He chuckled. "You want me to give you a lift home?"

"Yes… wait no, no I'm not going home…"

"What? Why not?"

I looked down at my shoes for a moment and sighed. "Just visiting… someone… a friend… I'll just take a cab, I'll be fine"

"Alright then… um Sherlock, are you doing okay?"

"Yes of course I am"

"It's just it's only been a week that you've been home"

"I'm fine Gavin… wait no… Greg?"

He rolled his eyes at me and laughed. "Well that's a first! Think you'll remember it next time?"

"Probably not…"

His phone buzzed again and he scanned the screen. "I've got to go… I'll see you soon"

I nodded and turned towards the direction of the main road, hailing a cab and climbing into the back. "Chiswick cemetery." I ordered and watched out of the window as we joined the swarm of London's rush hour.

My life can go on as per usual, however it must continue without John Watson. I think I'm getting the hang of it all now.

**(A/N) Hey! Hope you're enjoying this so far! Apologies for the wait, I had planned to finish before I published this however some friends encouraged me to post it. Unfortunately I'll be on a bit of a hiatus due to exams next week onwards and my current case of writers block. But hopefully I'll soon be in the mood for procrastination and post another chapter ASAP! But thank you all for reading, following, adding to favourites, and reviewing! Keep them coming I'd love your feedback! ~ astudyinredbeard**


	6. My Dear Watson

**Chapter 6 – My Dear Watson**

**~~Two Years Later~~**

After sitting by the window in Angelo's for far too long, I began to grow irritated at the lack of interest in my surroundings. I sat staring into the small crowds of people as they filed through more people and the limited traffic on Northumberland Road. Not one sign of the man I was expecting to meet. But he would be here… soon.

"Ah! Sherlock! It has been too long!" I looked up at the source of the voice to see Angelo, the restaurant's owner, standing over me with a wide grin on his face.  
"Indeed it has, how are things?"  
"Good thanks, but more importantly how are you?"  
I nodded in response before looking out of the window.  
"Oh are you on a case?"  
"Yes… I should be meeting someone who is most likely the one who stole a part of an exhibit from the British museum…"  
"An exhibit? Why would someone do that?"  
"No idea…"

I continued scanning the restaurant's surroundings, Angelo joining my search despite having no idea what I was looking for. The only sound came from chatter of nearby customers.

As I looked out onto the street I noticed a white van that had stopped not far from the restaurant. It wasn't the model of the vehicle that caught my attention – it was the logo.

"Angelo, do you ever get bread deliveries at this time of night?"

"No, never. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think I have found who I am looking for. Please excuse me." I got up quickly from the table, pulling on my coat and scarf before heading out onto the street in the direction of bread van. If I was correct then the case would solved. Should I call Lestrade? No he can wait.

As I approached the van a young man in a white jacket and jeans climbed out of the driver's seat, heading to the back doors. I suspected that the van would hold the artefact or the information needed for any buyers. It still confused me to why this particular item was taken since it holds very little value in comparison to its neighbouring exhibits. The driver stopped at the back doors of the van, opening them and I discreetly peered inside while trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. But I was wrong. The van contained nothing but one crate of bread that was then moved and taken into a small shop a few doors from where I was stood.

Before I could make any further decisions, my phone started to ring and I pulled it from my pockets.  
"Lestrade what is it?"  
"Good news Sherlock, we've found it. Someone tried to sell it on the black market but we got there first."  
"Do you know who tried to sell it?"  
"Yeah, some bloke from Shoreditch. He just confessed and gave up the names of the people who broke in. Case solved."  
"Oh… Good… I was at a dead end anyway." I admit I was slightly annoyed that I couldn't solve it myself. But the robbers were caught. Justice could be done which is all that Scotland Yard cared for. Besides it was a tedious case – I was better off staying home.  
"Okay Sherlock, I'll call you if anything else crops up. But thanks anyway."  
"No problem Lestrade. Goodbye." I hung up, looking around my surroundings.

It wasn't unusual that the case was solved without my help since I don't accept every case. However it was an odd feeling to end a case without completing it myself. All that was left was to return to Baker Street and busy myself with some of my unfinished experiments. I tried to hail a taxi; however the driver ignored me and carried on down the road. Sighing, I turned to walk towards a tube station when I collided with another pedestrian that I didn't see behind me.

I had begun to apologise to the shorter blonde man when I saw his face and stopped in shock. This simply could not be possible. Yet it was unmistakable: I knew this face. I knew this man.

John Watson.

**I have finally updated! Really sorry for the delay but I had exams and then the most awful writers block! This chapter isn't as good as I had hoped but you get the idea of what happened and I promise you it WILL get better (I hope xD)So - How's that for a plot twist? ;)  
Please favourite/follow/review it is much appreciated!** **~ astudyinredbeard**


	7. Author's Note

**Author's Note - 08/06/2016**

Hi everyone! I am honestly so sorry I've left it for nearly a year... I'm becoming the type of author I hoped I'd never be! O_O

I've nearly finished year 1 of A Levels and it has been really tough so I haven't found much time to write any more but I am promising you now: I WILL BE UPLOADING VERY SOON.

I'm just finishing up the next chapter and hopefully this summer I'll manage to complete the story!

But thank you everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed this - I love you so much just for clicking on this.

Anyway, I'll quit blabbering on and get to work - but keep a close eye on your inbox!

~ astudyinredbeard


	8. The Full House

**Chapter Seven – The Full House **

My head swam with confusion and shock. How was this even possible? I saw this man – at least I thought I had.

"John?"

"Sherlock! It's been a while, hasn't it?" He smiled at me as if it had only been a month since our last meeting. Just bumping into an old friend after a short time apart.

"John… how… how are you here? I thought you were dead! I watched you die!"

He looked at me with a sigh, looking around us before resting his hand on my arm. "I think we had better find somewhere we can talk, hm?"

I nodded in response, still slightly dazed by his sudden appearance. I was still unconvinced that this was all real, this had to be some sort of hallucination or a dream. "Baker Street?" I suggested.

"Good idea…" He walked over to the side of the road, hailing a cab before climbing inside, looking back at me expectantly. I looked around me with caution, I was wary of all my surroundings as I stooped into the taxi. John gave the driver the address before sitting back, looking out of the window. I couldn't take my eyes off of him – He was alive and sat next to me. He looked like he hadn't changed at all. I had never thought that this was possible.

The journey to Baker Street was completed in silence. Not a word was said until we were safely indoors in the living room we had once shared.

"It's tidier than I expected in here." I rolled my eyes at the comment. For over two years I believed he was dead and he was commenting on my organisation – or rather Mrs Hudson's.

"Is that all you have to say? Aren't you going to explain yourself! What happened? How are you alive? And – "

"If you give me a chance I can explain!"

"Then go ahead!" I slumped into my chair, looking up at him expectantly. I had to remain neutral, I was too emotional for my own good.

I watched as he pulled out a chair from my desk, facing me with his hands resting on his knees. "Sherlock, if you want the truth then… well I honestly don't know everything."

"Tell me what you know then."

"I remember you standing on the rooftop. And I remember you falling. And then everything after that is completely gone. I remember waking up in some room on a private estate, like an old hospital or something. I don't even know where it is"

"So what happened after that?" I was watching him carefully, trying to spot any of his tells that may reveal if he was concealing the truth. It was strange that I once trusted this man with my life and yet now I can barely believe him. How could he stay hidden and away from me for _two years_ only to appear now? What was the point?

"After that, I was told you were alive and I had to make my own way back to London – only made it back yesterday."

"Yesterday? That makes no sense. You have been gone for _two years!_"

"Yes, yes I know! But I didn't even know that until a few weeks ago! I have no memory of what happened! I just woke up and then after a while they let me go!"

"But why?!"

"I don't know Sherlock!" He sighed and looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry I don't know what else to say…"

"None of this makes any sense…. But, if it's any consolation, I am glad you're not dead" I saw a small smile appear on his face which turned into a quiet chuckle.

"Not… dead… You know I think I'm glad about that too."

I smiled in response. It seemed that everything was okay again, things were on the path to normality. But it wasn't. There was a feeling that I couldn't shake off.

"It would be a little inconvenient too" I sighed, "I've had no one to share the rent with" John looked back at me with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk before looking around the room.

"I have missed this place. Although I suppose to me it has only been a few weeks since I last saw it." I watched him as he rose from his seat, standing in front of the sofa and facing the smiley face I had painted for target practice years before. Although I could not see his face, I could tell he was smiling back at the childlike portrait. He shuffled forward a little, as if he wished to get even closer, but jumped slightly as a wooden sound emerged from under the sofa. He frowned and knelt down, retrieving a bundle of dark brown wood and wiry strings.

"Sherlock? This… this is your violin isn't it?" He spun around, apparently presenting the mess for me to see. "What happened to it?"

I stood up and crossed the room, observing the bundle in his hands. "It's just broken, an accident..." Even I could hear the hollowness behind my words but did not speak anymore as I let my fingers lightly brush off the dust that had settled on the broken neck of the instrument.

I had kicked the poor thing under the sofa when a client had arrived unexpectedly one morning in a hope to hide the mess in the room. Before that, it had been a victim of my rage and a collision with the coffee table – it must have been a few days before I was admitted into the rehabilitation centre. I had simply forgotten it was there.

John's voice had broken my thoughts and made my head jerk upwards to meet his eye line. I hadn't heard what he had said. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I was saying that maybe you should have it fixed? Or replaced?"

I nodded and collected the pile from his hands, dropping it carelessly on the desk by the window. It was broken beyond repair, what was the use of caution anyway? "Mycroft will most likely want to speak with you."

"No thanks, I don't fancy a nap…" He smiled lightly, obviously trying to lift the uneasy mood that had settled in the room once again.

"John, I think it would be best. After all, we know very little about what has happened to you and perhaps my brother may be able to help us out." I turned to return to my chair when I heard a door open and shut on the floor below.

"Oo-hoo! Sherlock! Are you here?" A voice shouted from the hallway. I recognised it immediately as the voice of my landlady Mrs Hudson.

I spoke in a whisper so she wouldn't overhear our conversation. "John I think you should wait in the kitchen. We can't tell her you're here."

"What are you on about? Of course we have to tell her!" He objected in an equally quiet voice, gesturing to the doorway as footsteps echoed from the stairway. "Well_, I'll_ tell her… You've never been the best at sensitivity!"

"Well you can't just stand here and offer her a cup of tea can you? You'll scare the life out of her!" John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright! I'll go wait in the kitchen! But we will tell her at some point, okay? And be nice…" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and passed me to the kitchen area.

"Be nice? Of course I'm nice…" I muttered and looked up as the door opened, Mrs Hudson emerging from the doorway carrying a plastic shopping bag.

"Oh there you are Sherlock! Why didn't you answer me? I've bought the pineapples and vinegar you said you needed, but please don't make too much of a mess, will you? Oh and I bought some new mugs so you have some for company rather than those old ones you always use…" I smiled and let her ramble on as she always liked to do; until she started to make for the kitchen.

I quickly moved into her way, chuckling awkwardly as she frowned. "Uh Mrs Hudson! Thank you very much for those, um… things you were saying about… I can take it from here don't worry about it!" I reached for the carrier bag, lightly pushing her shoulders to turn away. "Why don't you go put your feet up, hm?"

"Sherlock? What are you doing?" She said as she resisted my light encouragement. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" She turned with a stern look, resting her hands on her hips. "I always know when you're up to something! Now, what have you done to my kitchen?"

"Nothing! Your kitchen is absolutely fine! And you can see it… just not now… Isn't it time for your evening soother anyway?"

"Sherlock, let me through!" I sighed in defeat, glancing at the kitchen before clearing my throat.

"Alright… just stay calm…" I stepped out of the way, biting my lip as Mrs Hudson shook her head – I sensed it was more amusement than anger.

John stood behind the dining table smiling softly, as if to seem unthreatening and friendlier as she turned the corner. Her eyes widened in shock, her hand clasping her mouth as she gasped with tears in her eyes.

"John? No, it can't be? It's impossible!" She looked between us, seemingly afraid and confused. "But… John you died… you…" I put her hand on her shoulder, gently leading her to my chair as John followed us to the living room.

"Mrs Hudson, I told you to stay calm. Your breathing is too erratic-"

"Oh never mind my bloody breathing!" She put her head in her hands, wiping her eyes before looking up again at John with clear disbelief.

"Sherlock… maybe some tea would help, hm?" John suggested, taking a seat in his chair. I nodded and went through to the kitchen as he began to explain what he knew of his disappearance.

It was still an odd feeling; knowing that John Watson was sat just behind me, holding Mrs Hudson's hand and trying to comfort her. There was no doubt he'd ease her mind, he always had a knack for that. But just the thought of him here was surreal and yet also natural at the same time. I had realised this when I had instinctively prepared his tea: milk, no sugar. I carried the new mugs into the living room and handing them to him and Mrs Hudson before sitting in the chair by the desk. Mrs Hudson seemed calmer, she was smiling widely at John like he was a lost son, although I suppose he was to her. John was his usual self and seemed completely comfortable. It was as if no time had passed at all.

It was two years ago. I didn't fall from Bart's hospital. John Watson didn't die.

**Hi! Okay I'm seriously bad at this. I wrote the author's note days before I went to on holiday where I decided last minute to leave my laptop at home. Hence why we're here a month later. But I did it and it's a long one so I hope that's good until I post the next one! Thanks to those who have stuck by this story! And to anyone who is new here: HEYYYYY THANKSSSS! **

**Anyway, fave, follow, review! :-***

**~astudyinredbeard**


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